Just Deserts
by Natmonkey
Summary: Just what does Sten want from the vague Warden, hovering over him in his tent in the middle of the night?


_As a response to a question posed by zangatsubankai, and Mapachita wondering about certain elements of _Anticlimax_. Thank you both for the inspiration provided. No first person perspective this time, because the storyteller-view fits way better._

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_Our Warden sleeps, curled up to his beloved Alistair. Suddenly he awakens, alerted by a presence in their tent. A grave face is looming over his own, violet eyes burning in the dark.

"Sten?" the Warden mumbles sleepily. "What are you doing here?" He sits up and rubs his eyes. The covers glide off his body, revealing a beautifully sculpted torso. Here and there the caramel-coloured skin is marred by a scar, but that takes nothing away from his attractive qualities.

For a few moments the qunari stays silent, simply content with studying the other man's face. "I understand that you and your fellow Warden have become lovers." As always, his tone betrays no emotion whatsoever.

"You understand correctly." The Warden's voice turns defensive. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No." The corners of Sten's mouth twitch almost imperceptibly. "The only problem I have, is that you have failed to invite me." Even before the Warden has time to be bowled over in surprise, the giant has already claimed his lips in a fiery kiss, simultaneously pinning the other man's arms against his sides.

Our Warden is unable to do anything but humph desperately. He doesn't want to bed Sten, not at all. In fact, because of the sheer size of the man, he is quite afraid of him. And then he feels something large and hard pressing against his leg; he appraises the organ to be about the size of his forearm. His eyes widen in horror, his sphincter clenches shut in fear. If his lover can make him sore for several days, this one can provide him with a wholly novel meaning to the phrase "being torn a new one". Squeezing his eyes shut, the poor Warden tries to scream, but to no avail. The only sounds he can make are severely muffled, and no matter how much he wishes his Chantry boy would wake up, it doesn't work.

Alistair, ever the deep sleeper and oblivious to the struggle going on right next to him, mumbles in his sleep. Something about gooey, melting cheese on toasted, buttery bread. He turns onto his stomach and continues snoring softly.

Just outside the tent, Morrigan is rubbing her hands together, cackling maniacally. Judging from the noises, the poisonous extracts she has been spiking her former lover's food with are beginning to take effect. In a large quantity, the extracts are lethal. In minute doses however, they work on the victim's subconscious and cause severe nightmares. The witch wonders what he is dreaming so fitfully about. Darkspawn murdering his beloved bastard prince? A traumatic event from his past? It is probably impossible for her to know his fears. These nightmares are just deserts for his treatment of her, Morrigan believes. She doesn't truly hold a grudge against the Warden, but her pride does not allow her to let the young man walk away unpunished. Leave her for Alistair, would he? Her voluptuous lips curve into a smirk. Only a few days deprived of peaceful sleep, and then she will leave him be. Then her hunger for retribution will be sated.

With a choked "No!" the Warden bolts upright; sweat is pouring from his body in rivulets. It was only a dream. Sten wasn't trapping his helpless form under his body, trying to have his wicked way with him. He wipes his forehead and notices his hand comes away very wet. His heart is pounding in his chest. What a nightmare.

Beside him, Alistair snorts and stirs. "Hmm?" He looks over to his lover and sees him sitting there, sweating profusely. There is a haunted look in his fellow Warden's eyes. "Dave? Is something wrong?"

"No, I was just having a bad dream." With a smile he bends down to press a tender kiss to his companion's cheek. "It's fine, you can go back to sleep now." A relieved sigh rolls from his lips as he positions himself next to Alistair again, wrapping an arm around the lad's neck to draw him closer.

"Darkspawn?" the Chantry boy asks curiously, running his fingers up and down his mate's side.

Our Warden winces at the memory of his nightmare. If he ever told him about it, the boy would probably nearly die from laughter and never stop teasing him. "Yes, damned darkspawn." Again he kisses his lover, on the lips this time. "Sweet dreams, babe." A surprised groan escapes him when he feels the other's hand between his legs, searching, caressing.

"Well, now that you're up..." The boy chuckles at his little joke as he encircles the hardened length with his fingers. "I will help you forget all about those pesky darkspawn." His lips press soft kisses where he knows they will have the most effect, coaxing low moans and gasps from his beloved's throat.

Morrigan's eyebrows shoot up as soon as she hears those pleasured sounds coming from inside. A delighted glint sparks in her golden eyes. This is exactly the reason why she has decided to go easy on her former lover: the fact that neither he nor his wide-eyed fool boy minds her watching them as they make love. Not that they would notice her presence anyway. Almost shuddering with anticipation, the witch shifts forms. Into something small and fuzzy, with a long, naked tail and tiny paws. Although this is something mice generally are unable to do, if one were to look closely, it would seem as if this yellow-eyed mouse is smiling contently. Sometimes her ability to change forms is _such_ a blessing.


End file.
